On the Road to Nature’s Grand Mandala.
Apart from these fancies, I really felt as if I had entered a civilised
region, for beyond I espied a main building and priests’ quarters, and
also what looked like a stone tower.
The whole sight was really impressive. The presence of stone buildings
especially attracted my attention, for stones are very rare and costly
on a Tibetan steppe.
The place was the town just mentioned, called Reta-puri (town of
hungry devils), a name which Paldan Aṭīsha gave to the place when he
arrived here from India on the work of evangelisation. The name is not
inapplicable to the Tibetans.
The Tibetans may indeed be regarded as devils that live on dung, being
the most filthy race of all the people I have ever seen or heard of.
They must have presented a similarly filthy appearance at the time
of the visit of Aṭīsha, who therefore gave to the place the not
inappropriate title of Preṭa-purī. The Tibetans, thanks to their
ignorance of Samskṛṭ, are rather proud of the name, being under the
belief that it has some holy meaning. After Aṭīsha had founded a
temple, several high Lamas resided in this place, and a Lama called
Gyalwa Gottsang Pa, of the Dugpa sect, founded a most imposing
Lamaserai, which stands to this day.
It is, as I said, a very magnificent establishment, containing four or
five priests’ residential quarters, in one of which I passed a night.
My companion took leave of me after having completed his visit to the
holy places. I took a frugal lunch in my lodging and then, under the
guidance of one of the priests of the temple, sallied out to visit
all the holy objects on the premises. The main building was of stone
and measured about eight yards by ten. It was of one storey, and was
in this unlike most other Tibetan Lamaserais, which are generally
two or three storied. The most sacred relics in the temple were the
images of Shākyamuni and Lobon Rinpoche (Padma Chungne), founder of
the Old Sect of Tibet. To this Lobon are attached many strange legends
and traditions, such as would startle even the most degenerate of
Japanese priests; but I cannot here relate all those revolting stories.
I already knew the strange history of the founder of this Tibetan
sect, and so, when I noticed the two images worshipped side by side,
a sensation of nausea came over me. It was really blasphemy against
Buḍḍha, for Lobon was in practice a devil in the disguise of a priest,
and behaved as if he had been born for the very purpose of corrupting
and preventing the spread of the holy doctrines of Buḍḍha.
A curtain was hanging in front of the high altar, and one _tanka_,
about sixpence, was the fee for the privilege of looking at the relic
behind it. I paid the fee and found that the relic was nothing else
than the image engraved on stone of that abominable Lobon. Tradition
says that Lobon’s image was naturally inscribed on the rock when he
came here and stood before it, and this fantastic story is fully
believed in by the simple-minded folk of Tibet. They would not dare
to look straight at the image, for fear that their eyes might become
blind. I had no such superstition to deter me, and so I gazed with
careful scrutiny at the engraved image, and convinced myself that some
crafty priests must have drawn on a piece of rock a picture of some
priest and that the picture must have been afterwards tricked out with
suitable pigments. The engraving too was a clumsy piece of workmanship
destitute of any merit whatever, and without even the slightest
technical charm, such as might persuade the credulous to regard the
image as a natural impression on a rock.
I felt sorry for the sake of the Tibetan religion that such wicked
impositions should be suffered to prevail, though the Tibetan priests
may on their part reply that Japan is not much better in this respect
than Tibet, and that such frauds are not unknown in Japan.
Of whatever impious deeds the Lamas may be guilty, the whole
neighborhood was such as to inspire one with chaste thoughts and holy
ideas. This seems to be widely accepted in Tibet, for the Tibetans have
a saying to this effect: “Not to visit Reta-puri is not to visit the
snow-capped Kang Rinpoche; not to go around Lake Kholgyal is not to
perform the sacred circuit around Lake Mapham-yumtso.”
This saying means that the visit to Kang Rinpoche only completes
one-half of the holy journey unless Reta-puri is visited at the same
time, and that the visit to Lake Mapham-yumtso (Mānasarovara) will
avail nothing unless Kholgyal is visited at the same time.
The place indeed deserves this high honor, and undoubtedly it
constitutes one of nature’s best essays in landscape. Let me describe
here a little of this enchanting sight. First there was the river
Langchen Khanbab, flowing towards the west, with the opposite bank
steep and precipitous, and with rocks piled up here and there, some
yellow, some crimson, others blue, still others green, and some others
purple. The chequered coloring was beautiful, and looked like a rainbow
or a tinted fog, if such a thing could exist. It was a splendid sight.
And the rocks were highly fantastic, for some were sharp and angular,
and others protruded over the river. The nearer bank was equally abrupt
and was full of queerly shaped rocks, and each of those rocks bore a
name given to it by the priests of the temple. There was a rock which
was known by the name of the “Devil Surrender Rock;” another was called
the “Twin Images of the saintly Prince and his Lady;” a third bore the
name of “Tise Rock;” a fourth “Goddess of Mercy Rock;” and a fifth
“Kāṣyapa Buḍḍha Tower.” All these rocks were objects of veneration to
the common people.
I should have been deeply impressed by this unique grandeur of nature,
had it not been that I was scandalised by the sight of the misguided
veneration, if not worse, paid to the memory of Lobon Rinpoche. As it
was, even the kind explanations of my cicerone jarred on my ears.
About two hundred and fifty yards down the bank, from a cavern known as
the Divine Grotto, several hot springs were gushing out from between
the rocks. Three of them were rather large, while the other three were
smaller. The water of all the springs was warm, indeed some was so hot
that I could hardly dip the tip of my finger into it. The temperature
of that particular spring must have far exceeded 100° Fahrenheit. The
water of the springs was quite transparent, and all about them there
were many hard incrustations, some white, others red, still others
green or blue. The visitors to the place are said to carry away pieces
of this incrustation, which are believed to possess a high medicinal
value, and so they must have, if properly used.
After having visited all the places of interest, I returned to my
quarters and passed the night in meditation. The next morning I left
the place, and resumed my journey toward the tent.
Somehow I lost my way in the plain, and when I had already walked five
hours I had not reached the river which I ought to have reached in
about three hours. I looked round and noticed to my surprise that I had
been travelling towards the north, instead of towards the north-east.
Proceeding briskly onward in the right direction I at last reached a
river, which I crossed. By that time the sun had begun to decline, and
I had had nothing to eat all that day. I afterwards heard that the
people of the tent began to be alarmed at my non-appearance, and feared
that I must have been carried away by the river and drowned. When I
arrived at the tent, weary with the walk and with hunger, I saw the
daughter of the family coming out of the tent with some sheep. She was
highly delighted to see me, and I was told that she was about to go out
in search for me.
On the following day we proceeded eastward and arrived at the steppe
lying to the north-east of Lake Rakgal and north-west of Lake
Mānasarovara. It was a slope formed by the gradual descent of the spurs
of Tise toward Mānasarovara. That night we pitched our tent on that
plain, and then our journey towards the sacred mountains began.